Family: A Slingblade Fan Fiction
by alexwbyrd
Summary: A continuation of Carl's story immediately proceeding the events of the film, Carl seeks to find the only real family he has come to know and love.
1. Chapter 1

Family: A Slingblade Fan Fiction

I

Leaves, rustling against the persistent wind, soundlessly detach from their ever blackening branches and make their graceful journey to the floor below. Like sprightly dancers spinning in the wind, they peacefully made their slow, delicate descent where they would soon join their fellows in an ever growing communion on the docile grass below. Carl watched this act play out several times during his tenure in the Mental Hospital. Staring through the large window pane of the facility day room was often his only daily activity in that place. Carl never desired to socialize with any of his fellow patients in the institution. Some of them would try to do so but Carl would often walk away from them mid-conversation or he would gruffly rebuke them and they would promptly leave him alone. Before Linda and her son Frank came into his life during his brief release from the hospital, that was all his life amounted to: An endless existence of loneliness and despondency.

For most of his life inside that place, time held no meaning for Karl at all. The minutes, hours and days and even years would blaze by in a catatonic blur as he stared out that same paned glass window. With no social life, personal goals, or apparent desires there was little else to do...until Linda and her son Frank showed Karl what it was like to be loved. Even though that particular chapter of his life concluded with his return to the mental hospital, he had not returned empty handed.

Carl used to like the mental hospital. It was safe...familiar...life was predictable for him there. He didn't understand the wide world on the outside. To him, all that anyone ever wanted to do to him was point at him, redicule him, and talk about how very strange and peculiar he was. The way they all stared at him with their accusing eyes, reminding him how he never belonged in the world he was thrust into. At least in the mental hospital, everybody respected his retiticence. The other patients there didn't care to make remarks about him very much. They were lost in their own little worlds and didn't care to include him in theirs. Carl liked that just fine. None of the other patients offered him any of the compassion and understanding that was absent in his life. The only sort of emotional connection and true acceptance that Carl received was from the mother and her son those years past.

"Got some more mail fer yuh Carl!"

The orderly that entered the day room, holding a small stack of envelopes in his hand, was an aged man bespectled with dark, thickly-rimmed glasses and a somewhat pudgy build. Carl, turning slightly in his chair, gazed at the man.

"So Carl..." he uttered, pushing up the brim of his glasses in one quickened nervous motion, "How's life been treatin' yuh? You doin' ok?"

Carl grunted and then responded.

"Alright I reckeen".

Carl began rubbing his hands together in smooth, slow motions, indictive of his slight unease.

The glasses-wearing man spoke unevenly, as if unsure of himself. "Well if you need anythang just go ahead n' give us a holler. My name's Hank n' I'm new here and...well...I just figured I'd introduce mehself thass all".

A long akward silence fell as Carl remained still and quiet, gazing down at the floor below him. The pudgy man then placed the envelope on the window sill in front of Carl and, after a moment's hesitation, sheepishly noded and bid Carl good-day.

Many of the letters Carl received from Linda and Frank were at least three pages long as they seemed to make mention of even the most seemingly mundane of topics. Carl made it known to Linda during one of her visits that he fondly anticipated the letters she and her son would write him. As a result, she wrote to him even when there wasn't much to write about. Linda and Frank wrote to Carl every day since. This letter, however, was much shorter than the rest. It read thusly:

"Sorry I haven't written in awhile Carl. Something Eustace said to me yesterday got my dander up something fierce. I'm all flustered now and I just can't think of nothing else. I'll write soon ok?"

Carl looked up from the note and stared blankly past the window. His mind awander with questions concerning the sudden brevity of the letter. After some time, Carl simply placed the envelope down on his lap, continuing his daily reverie.

No mail came for Carl the next day, or the day after that. In fact, two months and eleven days had passed without a single letter from Linda or Frank arriving. Carl's worry grew. His nights became sleepless with growing intensity. His world, he knew, was changing once again. Initially, he met it with fear and resignation. However, when he began contemplating the alarming possibilities that they may be in danger or that, worse yet, they had simply forgotten him, he could no longer remain idle. He calmly arose from his seat at the dayroom window and sauntered towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

II

He had a strong, square jaw and wore little in the way of accessories to his well cleaned and pressed Asylum orderly uniform. His flat-top haircut was of a vibrant flaxen color which made his excellent physical and mental health readily apparent. His stature and posture showcased a firm sturdy build. Standing sentry over the door leading out of the dayroom, he promptly noticed Carl attempting to leave the room and stopped him, holding out his hand in a halting gesture.

"Woah now there Carl! Where do you think you're going?"

A stony silence swept the room as the other occupants in the dayroom turned their attention towards the door. Carl, stopping a mere three feet short of the Asylum orderly, did not seem to acknowledge the staff members inquiry as he stared downward at the man's feet.

"Hey why don't you just sit down and en-"

" I gots to see em" Carl uttered interrupting the flaxen-haired man's command.

"You can't just walk out and do that now can you? Come on Carl you know the rules. If you want to make a phone call, you can do so on wed-". Carl immediately attempted to walk past the flaxen-haired man, brusquely nudging the orderly's shoulder on the way.

"Hey!" The guard exclaimed as he swiftly grabbed Carl's shoulder with his left hand, simultaneously reaching for his billy club situated on the right side of his belt. The orderlies' right hand never managed to reach that far. Before he knew it, an almost imperceptible force struck the flaxen-haired orderly in the jaw, propelling him halfway through the ceiling. The legs and half the torso of the square-jawed orderly dangled from the ceiling as fine bits of plaster trickled down onto Carl's upwardly extended fist. After a brief moment, the other mental patients, recovering from their state of amazement, began to cry out in fits of hysteria. Carl lowered his fist and momentarily gazed at his knuckles, bewildered by his inexplicable and new found power. Carl ceased hesitating and immediately exited the room, closing the door behind him in order to muffle the fevered howls and ravings of the other inmates.

The spotless tile floor and white-washed walls and ceiling of the immaculate hallway seethed with activity as various members of the orderly staff rushed about in a state of confusion and panic. Their wide-eyed gazes briefly met Carl's which only served to expedite their departure from the immediate vicinity. It did not take long for the sounds of several hurried footsteps to reach Carl's senses. Over half a dozen orderlies wielding billy clubs rushed directly into Carl's path from an adjacent hallway. In that same moment, another seven similarly armed orderlies dashed into the hallway behind Carl effectively obstructing any means of escape. They began to bark out commands immediately, attempting to compel Carl to lay face down on the ground with his legs and hands outstretched. Our protagonist, unperturbed, continued his stalwart advance. Two of the orderlies, on either side of Carl, charged towards him with their clubs raised overhead. Their clubs splintered upon Carl's forearms as he upraised them, blocking their blows from both directions. Before the assaulting orderlies could react, Carl grasped both of their heads and swiftly brought them together, knocking them out instantaneously. The mass of uniformed men hesitated as Carl lowered his arms and his gaze met theirs in an expression of defiance. Carl promptly proceeded towards the door at the end of the hall. The hallway immediately erupted into a cacophony of violence and mayhem as the remainder of the asylum staff fell upon Carl. Their blows rained down on him to little effect. Consequently, each attack was met with a powerful strike which sent each of the hapless aggressors through a nearby wall. As the Asylum staff numbers diminished, the remaining eight orderlies lunged at him in a concerted effort to take Carl to the ground in one massive dog pile. The first orderly within the amalgamation of struggling bodies quickly placed Carl into a firm headlock in a final desperate effort to subdue the offending patient. Carl, closing his eyes and tensing his muscles, violently jerked his torso, arms, and head upright with incredible force casting the surrounding orderlies into the air around them. Their bodies helplessly collided into the walls and ceiling of the immediate vicinity with such prodigious force that a section of the ceiling above them gave way sending a torrent of bodies and powdery plaster on top of Carl.

A thick, suffocating cloud of white obscured the hallway in complete silence. A few minutes later, the silence was broken by the frenzied patter of a single man arriving at the end of the hallway just shy of the exit. Hank panted with fear and excitement as he surveyed the carnage wrought before him. The plaster residue permeating the air began to collect on his glasses. Taking off his lenses, he hastily began to rub the lenses clean using the fabric of his shirt. As he replaced his glasses, he immediately caught sight of a figure emerging from the ivory haze. His gait and silhouette were unmistakable. "Carl!" Hank exclaimed as he witnessed his approach. Carl drew ever closer, his pace not slowing. Hank took two hastily executed steps backwards only to stumble to the floor. Looking up at Carl from his now seated position from the floor, Hank watched breathlessly as Carl opened the glass double doors leading outside. "Y-y-y-yeh ain't goin' to be hurtin' nobody else are ya now?!" Carl halted his step and turned his head to peer down at the seated guard, his beady eyes now affixed on Hank's half-panicked countenance. After a brief moment's hesitation, Carl simply replied " I don't reckon I got no reason to kill nobawdy mmm hmmm". Carl closed the door behind him. Hank quickly lost consciousness.


End file.
